


And They Were Roommates

by strangeandwonderfulconcepts



Category: Queen (Band)
Genre: F/M, Fluff, Roommates
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-12-23
Updated: 2018-12-23
Packaged: 2019-09-25 07:10:09
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,082
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/17116766
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/strangeandwonderfulconcepts/pseuds/strangeandwonderfulconcepts
Summary: A simple mistake leads Roger and Reader to become unlikely roommates. Fluff and cuteness ensues.





	And They Were Roommates

**Author's Note:**

> It's been a long time since I've written fic, but Roger Taylor deserved a cute oneshot. :)  
> Feedback is always appreciated!

Becoming Roger’s roommate had been an accident. Your lease was up and the friend that you’d planned on moving in with moved in with her boyfriend instead. So, when your good friend, Aly, said that she knew someone with an extra room and you were less than a week from having nowhere to live, you jumped at the chance and agreed to move in with her friend, Taylor.  
Aly had said, “Taylor is super easy to get along with. You’ll be fast friends!”  
That was not the case.  
You were out of breath and sweaty, boxes in hand, when you opened the unlocked apartment door. You threw the boxes down and looked up to see a shirtless blonde man standing in the middle of your flat.  
“Who the fuck are you?” You asked.  
“I’m Roger Taylor. Who the fuck are you?”  
First impressions were important and it was suffice to say neither of you were impressed.  
After a very heated phone call with Aly, who swore she mentioned that it was ‘Taylor’ as in Roger Taylor, as in a man, you reluctantly began to unpack. The first week was tense but gave way to amicable. “Fast friends” was still far-fetched. 

 

“I swear to god, Roger, if you eat the last of my granola bars again, I’m going to beat you with your own drumsticks.” You shook the empty box at him as he walked through the door. He pushed his sunglasses up in his hair and frowned at you.  
“Blame drunk Roger. He was starving.”  
You rolled your eyes.  
“You’re hilarious.”  
“Think so?” He shot you a grin as he joined you in the kitchen.  
“No,” You shoved the box into his chest. “Stop. Eating. My. Food.”

 

The two of you struggled to mesh two very different lifestyles into one flat. You ran on opposite schedules. You often left for your morning walk as Roger stumbled into the flat. You’d come from work and he would be leaving for a gig. Sunday mornings, however, were often spent quietly coexisting.  
You yawned from where you curled up in your reading chair as the screech of the kettle sounded from the kitchen. You could hear Roger’s footsteps as he pulled it off the stove top.  
“Do you want a cuppa?” He called.  
“Sure.”  
He brought you the scalding hot tea and he laughed softly as you stuck your face over it, soaking up the warmth. A comfortable silence crept over the two of you, the soft light of the morning coming in through the window. You shivered under your blanket and wrapped both hands around the mug.  
“Cold?” Roger quirked an eyebrow at you.  
You frowned.  
“I can’t find my fuzzy socks anywhere.”  
Roger looked at you and then your bare toes for a moment before walking out of the living room. He returned a minute later, a pair grey wool socks in his hands.  
“Here,” He tossed them into your lap.  
“Oh, you didn’t have to do that,” You gave him a soft smile, sliding the socks over your cold feet even as you denied needing them.  
“Could hardly hear the tv over your teeth chattering,” He teased. 

 

“Absolutely not!” You whispered harshly.  
“I’ve tried to get her to leave twice. I need reinforcements.”  
“This is hardly a war that you’re in, Roger. Just ask her to leave!”  
“I did! I’m begging you to help a guy out,” Roger shoved a hand through his hair.  
The two of you were in the hallway, Roger blocking the doorway to the apartment. He was looking desperate and you would rather have the apartment groupie-free after a long day of work.  
“Fine,” You poked Roger in the chest. “But I’m not going to be nice about it.”  
“Do you know any other way?”  
You pretended not to hear his yelp when you pinched him. You pushed past him and into the apartment, dropping your coat and your purse to the floor. A redhead sat at the counter, one of your granola bars in her hand.  
“What the hell are you doing in our apartment?” You yelled at her.  
You watched with mild satisfaction as her eyes widened.  
“You think that you can sleep with my boyfriend and then just hang around the place like you own it?” You threw your hands to your hips.  
“I-I didn’t know that he had a girlfriend. I am so sorry, oh my god,” She quickly gathered her coat and a scarf that was an obnoxious shade of yellow and stumbled past you and a very shocked Roger.  
“You just made me look like a total asshole.”  
“You owe me, Roger Taylor. A favor and a new box of granola bars!”

 

You looked up from the television when you heard Roger’s keys in the door. You watched, half-amused and half-embarrassed, as he and his latest conquest burst through the door, pawing unceremoniously at each other. They crashed into the end table, then the foot of the couch you were sitting on. Eventually, they stumbled into Roger’s bedroom.  
Rolling your eyes, you turned the volume on the tv up loud enough to drown out the giggles from behind the closed door. Something burned in your stomach at the sound and you didn’t care for the feeling. You tried to ignore it and watch the sappy movie that you had on.  
A few minutes later, you heard a yell come from the bedroom followed by Roger’s bedroom door being thrown open. The woman was fastening her pants and glaring at Roger, who stood looking sheepish in the doorframe.  
“It’s Carol, not Carly!” She yelled before stomping out of the flat.  
Roger walked into the living room, face flushed and a hand in his hair.  
“Smooth,” You couldn’t help but giggle, pulling your blanket up to your chin. Roger flipped you off and flopped into the armchair. The room was silent a second and then you both broke out into fits of laughter.  
“I can’t hear shit after a gig,” He sighed. “Could’ve sworn she said Carly.”  
“Not including the last five minutes, how did tonight go?” You asked.  
“Great,” He gave you an easy smile. “You should really come sometime. We’re really not half-bad.”  
“Yeah. You know how it is with work. You’re not playing tomorrow are you?”  
“No,” Roger frowned, then smiled. “But we are going out for drinks, you should come with!” 

 

“I need to call in my favor.”  
Roger looked up to find you very close to him at the bar. You glowed from a touch of sweat and alcohol, but your eyes were panicked.  
“What’s up?” He asked, standing from his seat.  
“See the guy behind me? Terrible mustache?”  
Roger nodded. He was headed straight for the two of you.  
“He works at the coffee shop—”  
“The one on Cameron or Hazeltine?” Roger interrupted.  
“So not relevant!” You groaned. “He flirts, ridiculously and loudly, so I told him that I have a boyfriend and now he’s here and drunk and I don’t have a boyfriend.”  
Roger grinned.  
“Sure you do, love.”  
With an ease that most men would envy, Roger wrapped an arm around your waist and tucked you against his side, letting his thumb feather over your hip bone. You could feel his touch all the way down to your toes, but you tried to ignore it as Andy arrived in front of the two of you.  
“So you’re the boyfriend then,” He pouted, crossing his arms and looking between the two of you.  
“I’m Roger,” He introduced himself, but made no move to shake Andy’s hand.  
“Whatever,” Andy stalked off, looking over his shoulder to glare at the two of you.  
You let out a breath that you didn’t realize you’d been holding and dropped your head to Roger’s chest.  
“Thank you,” You mumbled. Roger’s hand moved from your hip to rub your back in languid strokes.  
“Want me to go beat him up for good measure?” He murmured against the top of your head and smiled when you laughed.  
“No, just stay close.”  
And so he did. All night. The woman that he’d been chatting up when you arrived was forgotten at the bar and his hands were on you at any given notice without fail. A brush of fingertips against your cheek. His palm warm on the small of your back.  
You found yourself forgetting about the facade and focused more on how a blush crept up his neck when you’d lean into his touch. Or how soft his hair was when you brushed it out of his face. The two of you were pressed close on the dance floor, foreheads not quite touching. You could hear Deacy somewhere close by, singing along to the song.  
“Come to our show tomorrow,” Roger spoke lowly so you could hear him.  
“I might be able to get out of work early,” You nodded and nearly bumped your head against his chin as you looked up at him. His grin was bright and your heart thudded in response. Smiling back, you prayed that someone would be able to cover your shift tomorrow night. 

 

The pub was crowded, you were constantly being bumped into, but the beer in your hand was cold so it was bearable. You and Aly pushed to the front of the crowd to stand near the stage. Shortly after, the band walked out.  
“Are you ready to have some fun tonight?” Freddie called out to the crowd. You and Aly screamed along with rest of the bar. Roger caught your eye and winked, spinning a drumstick in his hand. You rolled your eyes in response, but your heart began to pound in your ribcage.  
He belonged in those lights. His hair was a halo and the open vest he wore covered him in gold. He looked every inch a rock star. But when he caught you staring and smiled at you, it was the same smile you got from over a bowl of cereal early in the morning.  
The band played spectacularly. You and Aly danced along to the songs and the rhythm that Roger created. He was right; they weren’t half-bad. They were amazing.  
You and Aly waited for them at the bar after the show finished to a cheering crowd. You’d lost count of how many beers you’d had but you were feeling good, buzzed and tingly. A warm arm wrapped around your shoulders. Roger’s touch was far too hot against your skin and for a moment it felt like you were melting into him. You could feel the sweat that covered his skin.  
“You stink,” You scrunched up your nose.  
“You know how to knock a man down a peg, don’t ya?” Roger finished off your beer that had been sitting on the bar top. Aly greeted Roger with a nod and a fond “Taylor” before moving to mingle with the rest of the band a few seats over. Roger promptly took her stool.  
“So, what did you think?” It was an easy grin on his face but you could hear the nervousness beneath the words.  
“It was okay,” You shrugged.  
Roger frowned.  
“I’m only kidding, you big blonde idiot.”  
“Yeah?” The smile was back. Had he always smiled like that? You leaned forward and pressed a hand to his knee, the booze making you brave.  
“Yeah. The way you all sounded, it was perfect,” You paused. “You were perfect.”  
Roger was suddenly very aware of your fingertips on his knee and the warm look on your face, but it was your kind and genuine words that made his heart squeeze.  
Then, Roger’s lips were on yours. It was soft and tender and his hand came to gently rest on your neck. He tasted like sweat and cold beer and the hint of his last cigarette. His tongue swiped at your lower lip and you swallowed a moan, your fingers biting into his knee.  
“Hey! You two get a room!” Deacy called from across the room.  
You could hear the rest of the band laugh along, but it was like it was in a world separate from the one where Roger was looking at you the way he was that very moment.  
“I would say your place or mine,” He swallowed noticeably, his gaze shifting from your eyes to your lips.  
“Home?” You murmured, already moving to grab your coat.  
“Home,” Roger grinned and pulled you close to kiss you one more time before the two of you walked out the door.


End file.
